


Never Ever Judge a Symbiote by Its Name

by high_emerald_clouds



Category: Spider-Man (Movies - Raimi), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Past Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson, past Eddie Brock/Anne Weying - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/high_emerald_clouds/pseuds/high_emerald_clouds
Summary: Peter fights Venom, Venom fights Peter, Miles tries to get them to get along, and Doc Ock fights all of them.It's going to be a long week.





	Never Ever Judge a Symbiote by Its Name

**Author's Note:**

> I'm basing Peter B. Parker's past on Raimi Verse Peter Parker because I can.
> 
> Heed the rating. Eventual smut between Peter and Eddie and Venom because Venom wants in on everything.

Universe hopping wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t fun. Even with the nifty goobers Miguel had graciously passed around amongst the “Spider People,” which allowed for quick and relatively safe transportation between the alternate universes, Peter _still_ didn’t enjoy leaving one universe and being plopped down into another. He never could stick a good landing after falling through that rip in reality, and even though Gwen and Miles always had a good laugh watching him tumble through, Peter was pretty miffed about it.

It didn’t help that each and every time, it felt like his atoms were still rearranging themselves and adjusting to the alternate universe hours after passing through whatever door the goober opened up. He now understood pretty well what Dr. McCoy had always complained about when it came to using the transporter to teleport from ship to planet--having your atoms affected so strongly did not feel good. Miguel’s meticulously crafted goobers kept cells from disintegrating when a Spider Person was in a universe not their own, but it didn’t get rid of that weird feeling of being somewhere you didn’t belong. 

“ _Mira,_ ” Miguel had said, holding up one goober as he’d explained to Peter and Gwen (and later Miles and the others) how his inventions worked. “These aren’t meant for constant use. You have to take breaks inbetween jumps. _Créame,_ it doesn’t feel good when you use it too much. I just spent the past four days hopping between twenty different universes and I feel like shit. I mean look at me. I look terrible. Still fly as fuck but terrible.”

Since then, Peter and the others had agreed to only use the goobers when absolutely necessary. 

Catastrophic event that could end the world about to happen and no Avengers available for assistance? Fine, use the goober, get some Spidey help. Zombie plague about to wipe out the entire population of New York if a Big Red Button isn’t pushed but the Big Red Button is hidden under twenty feet of steel and a whole bunch of zombie guards? Ok, that could take four Spider People, use the goober and get some help.

Just want to chat about your day because you feel terrible after that new Daily Bugle article calling you a menace? Not exactly a catastrophic event, but the goobers were still used, especially by the younger members of their multi-universe team. They weren’t really _supposed_ to, but sometimes rules could be broken. 

It had actually been two days since Peter had last used the goober to help Peni with some massive robots in her universe when a message from Miles was sent through. 

He was still aching. His back was killing him, his knees hurt, and he swore he could still feel a bruise on his ribs from taking a robot arm to the chest even though the bruise was no longer visible.

He was sitting in his kitchen, still in his Spidey suit and fresh off patrol, eating stale cereal and looking up movie times. He should have been eating something healthy--like carrots or rice cakes or literally anything other than a cereal with some badly designed mascot on the box that was 90% sugar, just like he’d promised MJ. But it was Saturday night, Peter was alone, and he was achy and sleepy and he wanted sugar dammit. 

Anyway, he’d eaten healthy meals for the past week when he could get them. He’d even picked up a vegetarian burrito from that food truck in the middle of patrol on Wednesday. 

Besides, chowing down on cereal was a nice way to pass the time. There was nothing good on TV, and he was about to head to the movies alone, because MJ was busy with her fiancé--which, ok, Peter wasn’t ashamed to admit that hurt a bit, but it had been two years since their split and it was time for both of them to move on. It was for the best. She wasn’t in danger from his enemies anymore, and there was no chance of endangering the rhetorical family they might have had. 

They were still friends at least, which Peter was glad for. 

He was handling it like a champ. Like always. Putting the best interests of others over his own wants, even if other had trouble seeing it that way.

He was Spider-Man. Sometimes things he wanted just weren’t possible, or practical. He’d learned that years ago, when his powers had left him and instead of enjoying life he’d just felt guilty and awful. It never did change. That was just the way things were.

Tossing aside his spoon, Peter ignore the temptation to fall into yet another Spider-Man Pity Party and slurped the last of the sugary milk from his bowl.

And that was when a blue light began to glow, reflected along the rim of the bowl and Peter’s hands, and a voice spoke.

“ _Peter!_ ” Yelled Miles’s voice. Peter dropped his bowl. In front of him, a familiar rip in reality swirled like a miniature hurricane. The bowl he’d dropped began to float and his spoon spinned like a rotary blade towards the opening. His phone, still open to the theater’s movie times, began to flip upwards. 

He was used to hopping between universes by now, and miscellaneous items floating around was normal. It was why he’d secured all breakable items to the floor with velcro. But this time, something was different.

The opening in his universe was glitching.

Instead of swirling smoothly like a rip tide and widening enough to suck him through, the opening was flickering like a dying bulb. His bowl and spoon and phone floated in the air for mere seconds before trembling and falling to the table top, then spinning and rising into the air again, only to tumble back down. 

This was bad. He didn’t know how bad, but it felt pretty bad.

“ _Need help--_ ” Miles’s voice said. Peter felt his hair stand on end. Miles sounded as if he were speaking through an old radio, his voice distorted by static, and he sounded frightened. “ _Doc Ock--again--can’t get--_ ”

His voice cut off. The opening flickered erratically, as if it were about to die out. Peter stood and without looking he shot a hand out, sending a line of webbing towards his bedside table where his own goober sat charging on it’s little station. With a flick of his wrist, the goober flew into his hand.

“Miles!” He yelled into the flickering opening. “Hold on, I’m--”

“-- _something here_ \--” Miles’s voice continued. He sounded far off, like an echo through the tangle of universes between them. Peter snapped on his goober and pulled on his mask from his pocket, and froze when Miles spoke again. His next words were almost too faint to hear, but they sent a spike of fear right through Peter’s chest. “ _\--alien, thing--Venom--help--_ ”

His voice cut off. The portal twitched, and with a final pulse of light, it shriveled into a pin prick of bright blue before it was gone.

Peter stared at empty air. His bowl and spoon clattered to the table top. His phone fell to the ground and cracked. 

Venom. It had been over twenty years since Peter had dealt with that nasty thing, and he’d hoped the Peter in Miles’s universe had dealt with it before Miles had ever had to worry.

Of course, as was typical with his own special brand of Spidey Terrible Bad No Good Luck, he’d been wrong.

Peter shut his eyes for a moment, took a breath, and tapped the goober on his wrist. A second later a portal appeared in front of him, bright and wide and swirling smoothly in the air.

He didn’t have time to leave MJ a message. He didn’t have time to turn off his lights to save on his next bill. Without hesitation, he leaped through.

The portal closed around him. He was pulled through the stream between universes, speeding along like a red and blue arrow, yelling because who wouldn’t yell? Seriously? It felt awful and it had only been couple of days since his last trip through all the lights and webs that connected everything. He didn’t heal as quickly as he used to. He was a Grandpa-Spidey, give him a break.

All self deprecating jokes aside, Peter was terrified. His heart was racing. His mind was shifting through memories of his time with the symbiote. They weren’t good memories. Nope. Bad memories. Very bad. Venom sucked, big time.

There wasn’t much that fazed him these days, but hearing Miles’s voice cutting through the static and mentioning the symbiote’s name had been like a knife to the heart. He needed to get there, and he needed to get there fast. Miles shouldn’t have to deal with Venom. Miles didn’t deserve to go through that trauma alone. Peter was going to take care of the slimy blob and it’s claws and sharp teeth and make sure it didn’t bother another Spider-Person again.

And if it laid a single slimy claw on his friend, may the multi-verse have mercy on it, because Peter B. Parker sure as heck wasn’t.

He just hoped this Eddie Brock was more reasonable than the last.


End file.
